An Atomic Fairytale
by Silverstreams
Summary: They come from humble beginnings—a waitress, a gas station attendant. But science draws them together, and only science will tear them apart. Before Aperture Science there was Aperture Fixtures, a company built on the hopes and dreams of Cave and Caroline. This is a story of those beginnings. Caveline. Two-shot.


A/N: This is heavily based off of two songs by The Killers: Miss Atomic Bomb, and A Dustland Fairytale. Enjoy!

An Atomic Fairytale

New Mexico, 1943

Hot sun poured down from the sky, pooling and rippling across the desert. The roar of an engine tore through dry air, wind hissing through cranked-down windows. A joke. A yell. The passenger's voices escalated into a screaming match, interrupted only by fits of roaring laughter.

Creak. With a harsh grinding, the driver leaned forward to shift her car into a lower gear. The driver cringed as she shifted her car into a lower gear, just waiting for the engine to cut out. She remained convinced that this car would sputter to a stop in the middle of the desert, leaving Caroline and her friends to push it into town.

But it didn't stall.

She exhaled.

Conversations dimmed. The wind slowed. The ladies drifted into down, rolling up to one of Los Alamos's full-service gas stations. Besides needing gas, her new car could use a quick clean-up. A layer of dust clung to her car, and the sun-caked bugs refused to scrape off. But here, she didn't have to deal with it-that was the gas station's job. Besides refueling, the full-service gas station would wipe down her windows and air up her tires. Whatever else she needed, they'd do it-she was paying them, after all.

She cranked the key. The engine cut off. The station's crew approached, greeting Caroline and her friends. Doors slammed. Friends exited, dispersing for the convenience store and leaving Caroline alone in her 'new' car. Her focus switched from familiar face to familiar face, eventually settling on a new one. He stood a head taller than the other members of the teenage crew.

But what was he doing here? While the majority of the crew were younger than 18, he looked to be not much older than herself. Early 20's, perhaps. Other men his age had already been drafted and shipped overseas to fight in the great world war.

A slick gas station worker shoved the unfamiliar guy's arm. He pushed away. With a halfhearted laugh, he lumbered out of his puddle of shade and over to the side of her black car. He rapped his knuckles on the side.

"Good afternoon!" Caroline said, bright and cheerful.

The man yanked back. "Well, hello," he said with a slight laugh. "Didn't see you there, miss," he said, almost struggling with being formal. He hadn't expected a lady to be driving this nice car, much less one as pretty as her.

She waved a hand dismissively while readjusting her sunglasses. He was young—strong, blonde, with a forced smile and thinly-disguised scowl. Oh, he hated his job. One glance at his face was proof enough.

But his expression easily shifted into an upbeat one. The more he stared at her, the more his smile grew.

She draped an arm over her window, fingertips brushing the glinting black surface of her car. Though not brand new, it was new to her. She'd gotten it at a steal, too. It had belonged to a dead soldier, until his family sold it off to her. His empty car in their driveway—a constant reminder—had been too much to bear.

"This your car?" said the station attendant, rubbing a hand on the black frame.

She nodded once, tapping her finger on the steering wheel. "Sure is!" she said, smile crossing her face.

"Can't believe it—must have been expensive for a lady like yourself," he said, whistling. The man stepping back to admire it before continuing. Exhaling, he shook his head in belief. "So who'd you borrow this from?" he said. "There's no way this car's yours."

"Excuse me?" Caroline said, still bright, but with a tint of confusion. She straightened in her seat, but the young man waved over his co-workers. The rag twisted in his hands, and he pointed it at her.

"Any of you ever seen this lady's car before?" he said, but the gas station crew shook their heads. Of course they wouldn't have seen it—this was her first time putting gas it in. This was her first time _driving it. _That's why her friend were here—to celebrate. To drive through the town without a care in the world. And now, she'd stopped to get it cleaned up. Make it shine. Show it off to the rest of the world.

"No?" he said. "Well, that settles it. Bet you're going to crash that thing as soon as we're through with it. Right into a wall," he said, and the entire staff burst into laughter. Their dumb smiles encircled Caroline, and the blonde man hit the cloth against his leg.

She fell silent, gripping the steering wheel. Her hands threatened to split, already dry and cracked from the desert air.

"I'm just kidding, sweets," he said, leaning back in toward the window. He crossed his arms in a non-defensive way, the posture itself open and welcoming. One wrist rested on top of the other wrist, as if they'd just managed to cross paths. A hand dropped out, halfway into her car. "Anything else I can help you with, dear?"

She didn't make eye contact. "First of all, my name is _Caroline," _she said, smiling and slipping back into her normal high voice. "Remember that. And I'll have you know, Mr…" she glanced at his nametag, then looked away. "—Mr. _Johnson_, that I've earned every _penny_ for this car from my job. I don't have enough money to get out of this town—but if I'm going to be stuck in this nowhere place, at least I'll have this car," she said, slipping into a much more lower tone. He drew back, though his hand still lingered on the window ledge.

"More than you can say, clearly," Caroline said, eyeing his hand before continuing. "But I really do appreciate all of your _help_, and I'll try to not run you over on my way out. I _am,_ as you said,probably going to crash this thing. But thanks!" she said, voice again bright.

She twisted back to look at the convenience store's entrance. Armed with ice-cold bottled sodas, her friends came out the entrance and piled back into her car. Caroline handed over the money she owed to the car crew.

"Hold on—" said Cave, money fluttering in the breeze. "Really, it was just a joke. I'll—here—how 'bout I take you out on a date to make up for it?"

Caroline twisted the key. Her engine revved to life, and she pulled out of the gas station without a backwards glance.

He was left in silence, staring off at where her car had disappeared. His co-workers exchanged looks, snickering. It wasn't often that a ladykiller like him was turned down so swiftly and curtly. One patted him on the back. Cave shoved him away, still watching the dust cloud settle.

* * *

Evening. A door swung open, and steam hissed out. Pans and pots clattered. A burner on an industrial stove hissed to life.

Caroline balanced a tray as she tiptoed out of the restaurant's kitchen. Water in the cups rippled, and she steadied her arm. As the night settled in, the evening rush of people had subsided. As soon as her section cleared, Caroline would be free to head home and collapse into her bed. Only a few tables remained, and she couldn't wait to finish serving them.

She slipped the plates onto the table, always smiling. She may have hated her job, but she wasn't stupid enough to show it.

A bell dinged. Someone else walked in, and Caroline slipped the empty tray under her arm. A new figure seated himself, sliding into a table for two pushed against the window.

In _her _section.

She exhaled—a subtle sigh. She'd just been ready to call it a night. Oh, well. The fewer people at a table, the quicker they ate. One more person wouldn't be that much of a problem—she'd still sign out at a decent time. Caroline adjusted her uniform before gliding over, paper pad in her left hand and pen tucked into her apron.

The man folded his hands, slouching forward in his seat. He stared at the table's slick surface; he stared at the pristine napkin. He stared at the fork and the knife and the smudges on the spoon that wouldn't come off no matter how many times the kitchen staff scrubbed it. When Caroline approached, his focus shifted to his thumbs.

Her pen clicked against the paper, and she stared at his untouched menu. With as much cheer as she could muster, she greeted him.

The man glanced up, instant recognition coursing through Caroline.

"Oh. It's _you," _she said, voice calm.

He shifted in his seat, clearing his throat and eying the exit. "Caroline," he said after a moment's hesitation. Oh, he was uncomfortable. _Good._ "I'll—I'll take a glass of water, I guess."

She kept her face relaxed, flipping the paper pad closed. No use writing down that order. "I'll give you a few more minutes to decide on your order," she said. "Don't worry. It's not like I'm here all night." Though still cheerful, the coldness in her voice was evident.

Her last table cleared out, and Caroline slid into another table while she waited for the man in the corner to hurry up and order his food. A pile of napkins sat beside her, along with piles of forks and knives and spoons—tomorrow's place settings. While she folded them, she kept watching him to better gauge when he was ready to order.

She expected him to make a few comments while she worked, a few half-hearted attempts at lightening the mood that would undoubtedly fall flat. But he remained silent, instead staring out the window. His jaw was clenched, and his hands remained clenched.

Once again, she walked over with the pad of paper in hand. She didn't say anything—only smiling and staring expectantly. He sighed, exhaling and pushing away from the table.

"I'll take whatever's cheapest," he said, reaching over to hand her the menu.

"So one more glass of water?" she said with a slight smile.

"No—" he said, reaching back over. "Damn it, give me back that menu."

Caroline handed it over, watching him scan the pictures—skipping descriptions altogether—and instead point at a bland sandwich. "I'll take that. Looks cheap enough."

She nodded, scratching down the order and then disappearing through a revolving door. Cave leaned back again, gaze drifting through the window and out into the darkness of the desert night.

She came back about five minutes later, two steaming cups of coffee in her hands. Sliding over to his table, she set one in front of him. The edge of the faded yellow cup clinked, and a few drops threatened to spray out.

He stared at the coffee, and then stared at Caroline.

"It's on the house," she said. "You looked like you could use one."

He gave a silent nod of agreement, reaching forward to hold the warm cup to his lips, then sipped it the way most people slurped hot soup. His eyes widened— and he made a hand motion, wildly beckoning her to sit.

"You," he said through sips, "should get paid so much more for this," he said, pointing at his mug. "This is the best goddamn cup of coffee I've ever tasted."

"It's just coffee," said Caroline, slipping into the opposite chair. One of the legs caught on the tiled floor, and she frowned as she yanked it back.

"But it's _damn good _coffee," said Cave. Caroline said nothing, instead just holding her own cup with two hands. She stared down into the swirling surface, her reflection only dimly rippling back.

A moment passed, with both of them sipping at their drinks.

"So," said Cave. "Why the change in heart?"

She shrugged, dabbing at the corner of her mouth with a napkin. "Something was different today," she said, recalling a moment of pity she'd been struck earlier. Watching from the kitchen, he'd seemed so…deflated. Less cheerful. Less energetic. He was different now, outside the company of his immature co-workers and with no audience to back up his half-hearted jokes. "I thought you could use some company."

She saw a smile grace the corner of his lips, the first one she'd seen from him all night. Cave gave a shaky laugh. "Guess that's true. It's not every day that a man loses his last chance," he said, and Caroline glanced up from her drink. She met his eyes for a brief moment, the question unspoken.

"Just got fired," he said. "_Again._ And that was the last place around here that was hiring. They're going to ship me off any day now—no getting out of it this time." He didn't have to mention it by name—both knew he was talking about the draft.

"I'm sure you'll be fine," said Caroline after a pause. "There's plenty of other soldiers out there—you'll make it out alive," she said. "If not, there's nothing wrong with dying for your country."

"If I'm gonna go out though, I'd rather it be a bullet. Quick. Instant. Painless. No use making death drag on and on," he said.

And yet, Caroline glimpsed someone scared through his tough outer shell—someone who didn't want to go off and die in a way. Someone who went from town to town and job to job in an attempt to blend in, to lay low. When it came down to it, Cave would take a bullet for his country—but that was only if he _absolutely_ had to. No point in tempting fate, though. Might as well avoid the possibility altogether.

"At least with something slow, though, you can take your time. Come to terms with it—the fact that you're going to die eventually."

"I'd rather take the bullet," Cave muttered, once again shifting to glance out at the approaching night.

"What about college?" she said. "That's another option."

"Failed right out. None of those eggheaded professors liked my answers. I had my _own_ way of doing things. Apparently that's not a good idea in a science class. Too many rules. Broke 'em all. Accidentally, of course. And all in the name of science."

"Oh, I love science," said Caroline. For a moment, Cave though that she was joking, or simply agreeing with him to further the conversation. But the way that her had voice dropped caused him to backtrack and look into her eyes and realize she was completely serious.

"You _do_?" Cave said, voice rising slightly at the end. He cleared his throat, then tried again. "I mean, you do?"

"Absolutely. And that's why I love this job so much."

"But you're a waitress."

"Yes, but—" A bell dinged. Caroline twisted. In the kitchen, a single plate sat on the ledge. She got up, gliding across the restaurant and grabbing his plate. She slid it across the table a few moments later, diving back into her conversation. "—the people eating here talk about it all the time."

"Like what?" Cave said, chomping into his sandwich. For once, he was glad that the conversation had shifted away from him—especially now that he had food to eat.

"There's a government laboratory right outside town. The employees tend to come here and talk, and well," she said, picking up her cup of coffee, "I listen."

A piece of lettuce fell out of his mouth, but he nodded his head for her to continue.

"I wouldn't want to repeat any of it out loud," she said, voice dropping into a whisper, "It _is _top secret, after all. But the things I've heard are _incredible_. Revolutionary. And they don't even understand how _important_ their work is."

"And you do?"

"Certainly more than they seem to," she said.

"I wanted to be a scientist," said Cave. "Took a few classes. Apparently throwing two things together in a test tube to see what happens isn't quite how it works."

"You'd be surprised what you pick up from overhearing scientists everyday."She shook her head, laughing inside. He clearly didn't know much about science-about any of the procedures, the protocol involved, how specific and precise it had to sometimes be. Even SHE knew that, and she wasn't even one of their employees.

"There's still jobs open there," she said. "For young men like yourself. They're a government research facility—no worries about the draft. A friend of mine's married to someone out there."

"Think they'd hire me?" he said, a slight frown staining his face.

She shrugged, not wanting to crush his dreams entirely. He had no chance at getting a job as a scientist—without a degree, there was no way. If anything, he'd end up with a security job. She knew from past experience that their security was top notch—nothing unauthorized left that facility. "Wouldn't hurt to try," she said, "though good luck getting close enough to ask. My friend couldn't even go in to visit—her husband had to meet her outside."

And even that had been unusual—many of the employees lived on site, going days or months without contacting the outside world. Their project required secrecy, and their only escape was the occasional trip into town for a meal. Even then, conversations never strayed far from their work. And Caroline couldn't help but be fascinated by the tidbits she overheard

"I'm gonna go out there and show 'em what I've got. Demand that they hire me, " he said, confidence rising. He straightened, pointing to his head. "I've got ideas up here. Good ones. Stuff that could change the world if they'd just give me a chance. They'll see that, I'm sure."

She nodded, sensing the enthusiasm beginning to flow back into the man. It was as if someone flipped a switch, letting his earlier negativity dissipate like the steam from his coffee. He seemed like the same man he'd been at that gas station, but much more…positive. Confident. Though his words weren't louder, he spoke with a much higher intensity, a much higher _passion_ for the ideas coming out of his mouth.

"Hell, if I owned a car, I'd drive out there myself," he said.

"It's not that far," Caroline said, giving a slight smile. "I've driven out before."

"Oh! Right." His voice fell for a moment as their first, less-than-pleasant meeting flashed through his mind. "You wouldn't mind…" he said, not even finishing the question.

"Well, as soon as you finish eating I'll be off my shift."

Cave's eyes widened, and he glanced down at his plate. He downed the remaining quarter of a sandwich in one gulp. "Done," he said with a slight cough.

Caroline shifted from her position, sitting up and gathering the finished plates and cups. "I'll be right back," she said, balancing everything on the circular tray like a carefully raked pile of leaves.

Cave watched her go, strumming his fingers against the table. Days ago, she'd left him standing in a dust cloud. And now here they were, ready to take off into the desert night. Something had changed—and Cave was terrified that one wrong would shatter this science-based connection.

She glanced at the clock. The tables and booths of the restaurant sat empty; the diner had closed up around them without either of them noticing. No light came from the kitchen, and the owner had left Caroline with the responsibility of locking up the place. "There's bound to be people still awake and hard at work over there, even at this hour," said Caroline, wiping her hands on the edge of her red dress. "I'll drive you out there, but I'm not going in."

"Why not_?"_ said Cave, a hint of defiance in his voice.

"Well, I'd rather not get arrested," she said.

"You've got nothing to worry about. Especially with those good looks of yours," said Cave, giving her a wink. "If a pretty thing like you walked in there with me, they'd be so awestruck that they wouldn't even notice that we'd waltzed right by their security. All I need is a chance to talk to them—and with your help, they wouldn't last a minute."

"You really want this job, don't you?"

He gave a solitary nod.

She gave a resigning sigh as she moved to close down the restraint. "You're insane," she said, voice light and cheery. "And if you get us arrested, I'm blaming every bit of it on you."

"Perfect," said Cave, jumping up from his chair. He dashed toward the door, pushing it halfway open before turning back to her. He reached out, palm upturned. "Give me the keys. I'm driving."


End file.
